


meeting the ex (two down, a lot more to go)

by dantes_wombat



Series: Malec prompt fills [2]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, it's a light-hearted fic though I swear, mention of drugs (kinda), mention of dubcon (if you squint)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-01 23:32:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16294019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dantes_wombat/pseuds/dantes_wombat
Summary: Weekends together are great, but don't always go as planned. Especially when you're about to meet someone you didn't neccessarily want to meet.





	meeting the ex (two down, a lot more to go)

**Author's Note:**

> The next installment in my Malec prompt-filling series. This one's a bit silly, I hope you enjoy it anway x) Prompt “Wait. So you two had a thing going on?” – “It’s ancient history" again provided by [ThymekeNerada](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThymekeNerada)! Thank you <3

Not so long ago, Sunday mornings used to be a bit boring, and not so different from any other day of the week, except that most demons seemed to cherish a break, too. Alec would get up early – a lot earlier than Jace, who made a point of not being seen before noon – and spend a few hours training. Then, after an unremarkable breakfast, he would mostly occupy himself with paperwork or any other task he hadn’t managed to finish during the week. When he finally remembered to have dinner (or when Izzy finally dragged him to the kitchen), the day would mostly be over and he’d go to bed early. 

This routine has changed drastically since he got together with Magnus, and started to spend as much of his free time as possible at the loft. 

Now, Sunday mornings are by far his favourite time of the week. For once, he usually doesn’t wake up in his bleak bedroom at the Institute, but curled around his boyfriend on their incredibly comfortable bed. Sometimes, the Chairman wakes him up by sticking his nose into Alec’s face, which he pretends to hate but really doesn’t (“You’re lucky it’s not the butt,” Magnus had commented, and that’s probably true). When Magnus turns around for a good morning kiss, eyes still unglamoured and hair sticking everywhere, Alec feels completely at peace, and more at home than he ever did at the Institute. 

Breakfast tends to be an unhurried affair that more often than not turns into brunch or even lunch, depending on the extent of their post-morning-kiss activities. Today, it’s nearly 11:30 when they finally sit down for coffee and some excellent pancakes Magnus conjures up from somewhere when they’re too lazy to make them themselves (Alec has stopped asking whether they’re being paid for or not). Magnus is wearing a silky red robe that Alec loves and nothing else, the early noon sun is painting everything in warm golden light and really, the morning couldn’t be more perfect as a fire message suddenly flutters into existence and is reflexively snatched out of the air by Magnus.

He’s already frowning when he unfolds the piece of paper, and doesn’t stop as he reads it. 

“What is it?” Alec asks.

Magnus sighs. “A party invitation, by the High Warlock of Lyon. Tonight. He sure likes to plan his events spontaneously.” 

His lover's slightly drooping shoulders tell Alec two things: a) this is not an invitation one just declines, and Alec respects that Magnus has to strengthen his alliances whenever possible, and b) their weekend together is nearly over, and Magnus hates it. They don’t even have the whole day left, because travelling by portal or not, time-zones are still an issue. But it’s probably considered bad form to just bring a Shadowhunter to another warlock’s party and besides, Alec is not a partygoer. At all. 

“I can come along, if you like,” he says anyway, because he’s a good boyfriend and because the way Magnus’ face lights up immediately is worth a night of badly mixed drinks and boring small talk. Also the possible scandal. Magnus seems to be having the same thoughts because he asks, frowning, “Are you sure you don’t mind? This will definitely catch people’s attention-“

Alec smiles and takes his hand across the table. “It’s fine. I won’t let this ruin our weekend. Who knows, it might be fun.” Magnus still looks a bit dubious, but starts talking schedules and appropriate outfits for the evening with growing enthusiasm. 

“So, this High Warlock of Lyon…you two know each other well?” Alec asks when they’ve been sitting there for a while longer, coffee cups now empty. 

“You could…say that.” Magnus looks a bit uncomfortable at the question, which catches Alec’s interest immediately. 

“What, don’t tell me you’re like, mortal enemies or something-“

“No no, it’s not that, we get along,” Magnus clears his throat, then gets up suddenly. “Well, time to get some work done,” he says (completely ignoring the fact that nowadays he never works on Sundays) and he’s gone, leaving Alec to ask himself what exactly he should be expecting from tonight’s party, and whether he should bring any weapons. 

 

~

 

They step through the portal at exactly five minutes past ten, which is apparently considered ‘fashionably late’ in warlock circles. Immediately, Alec’s senses are bombarded by colours, flashing lights, and noise. His first – and steadily growing – impression is that the location looks exactly like the mundane high school Halloween party Jace dragged them to when they were teenagers. A passing Shadowhunter on the lookout for disguised demons had ended up discovering them and called their parents, but the point is, the hall looks terrible. Black sheets and artificial spider webs cover most of the walls in an attempt to make everything look less like the sports hall it actually is. On the ceiling, there’s a huge chandelier that could be quite impressive, if it weren’t for the grinning plastic skeleton nestled in it. There’s a bar to the left, a few rickety plastic tables in the corners, and a dance floor that basically takes up the rest of the room. It’s already filled by a mixed Downworlder crowd of vampires, warlocks, and fair folk of all sizes. The DJ is playing some song Alec dimly remembers from Izzy’s mundane music phase in the 90s. 

They’ve drawn people’s attention already, little groups looking at them and whispering to each other, but Alec finds that he doesn’t mind that much. He knows that they look good together - the dark blue pattern on Alec’s black dress shirt matches the colour of Magnus’ waistcoat on an otherwise black outfit, and they had a lovely moment in front of the mirror that felt like they could take on the whole world like this, not just some random warlock’s party. Alec had even agreed to some eyeshadow skillfully applied by Magnus’ hand, which is probably the reason why his lover can’t seem to stop making eye contact that lasts just a bit longer than usual. 

They’re also ridiculously overdressed, like everybody but them knew what to expect tonight – though knowing Magnus, his aim always was to be the best-dressed guest (or host) at any party, no matter the motto. And sure enough, he’s looking quite pleased with himself, head held high, as a group of young warlocks with panda make-up and rather shapeless black velvet dresses walks by.

There’s a stage at the end of the hall, occupied only by a throne that looks suspiciously like a movie prop and a small group of admirers spread out on the floor around it. On the chair itself sits a man that looks to be in his twenties, with frizzy long hair that has been dyed nearly white, an equally white-powdered face, a light blue coat that should probably look 18th century but seems to be a carnival costume, and sunglasses tinted a light purple. Being the only spot of pastel colour in the room, he sticks out immediately. In his hand is a glass full of dark red liquid that Alec would expect to be some kind of cocktail, if it weren’t for the suspiciously longing stare and elongated fangs of the vampire girl sitting right at the guy’s feet. The whole thing reminds Alec of the way Magnus used to preside over his guests at Pandemonium, just a lot more embarrassing. According to Magnus, the High Warlock of Lyon is only 250 years old, which, in Alec’s expert opinion, seems awfully young to be voted into such an important office. As if on cue, Magnus starts confirming his prejudices.

“Ah, and there he is. As you might be able to guess, Pierre has the unfortunate habit of imitating any character from popular culture he likes best at the moment, mostly vampires. It’s a bit like this cosplay-thing Simon keeps showing us pictures of, just...badly done. For the past thirty years, he’s been emulating Lestat de Lioncourt. You know, from that movie you liked so much last week – don’t look at me like that, I know you enjoyed all that blatant homoeroticism. At the end of the nineteenth century, he claimed to be a distant relative of Dracula himself...he’s been acting like royalty ever since. Most of us tend to straight-up ignore his eccentricities nowadays, though obviously his parties are still quite popular. He’s been known to drink blood as well, which is just considered bad taste in a warlock-” 

“He what,” Alec forces out, still sputtering a bit because of that movie comment and slightly overwhelmed by the sheer amount of incredulous information. But there’s no time to recover. Pierre has spotted them, risen from his throne, passed his glass to the vampire girl who downs it instantly, stumbled over one or two of his followers, and is coming up to greet them. Being used to socialising with people he really does not want to socialise with (especially stuck-up Clave representatives that could not be more different from the warlock approaching them), Alec manages to plaster a polite Fake Smile on his face in record time. 

“Magnus, _mon chère_ , what a pleasure to see you again,” Pierre says in a highly unpleasant voice as soon as he reaches them, grabs Magnus by the shoulders and plants a little kiss that lasts far too long for Alec’s liking on each of his cheeks. Magnus disentangles himself with a polite “You too, my friend,” and gestures at Alec. 

“And this is my partner, Alec Lightwood.”

Pierre turns to Alec and visibly falters a bit as he notices the rune peeking out above his collar. His fake smile matches Alec’s own when he grabs his hand for a weak shake.

“Ah, a guest from the New York Institute. _Enchanté_.” His French accent is so overdone, it leaves little doubt that the man is actually American.

“...yeah. Likewise?” Alec can feel his voice and eyebrows rise, even though he knows they shouldn’t. Up close, Pierre’s whole getup is even more hideous than it had looked from across the room. There are more ruffles than he has ever seen on a single person in his life. Over the man’s shoulder, he can see the pleading look in Magnus’ eyes. It says _I know you what you’re thinking, but please don’t show it_.

Still shaking his hand, Pierre pulls him into an awkward and very one-sided embrace, luckily thrown off his cheek-kissing routine. It doesn’t get less awkward when the warlock’s left hand lands squarely on the outline of the Seraph dagger that Alec is hiding under the back of his dress shirt, but at least Pierre is fast to retreat from his personal space after that. Managing to only look a little panicked, he smiles even more broadly, showing off fake vampire teeth. 

“Well - I'll talk to you guys later! Enjoy the party!” he yells shrilly, while already retreating back towards the stage. 

Alec instantly turns to Magnus.

“Why didn’t you warn me?” he hisses at him.

Magnus just smiles indulgently. “Darling, you should know what to expect from warlocks by now. I have cat eyes, Catarina is blue, Pierre has no fashion sense. It’s in our natures.” 

Well, Alec sure won’t be the one to deny that Pierre’s outfit could provide proof of his demonic parentage. He looks at the High Warlock of Lyon again, then at his own boyfriend, and feels an intense surge of pride. Whether in Magnus’ impeccable taste in clothing or his own taste in men he can’t be a hundred percent sure right now. Probably both. 

Unsurprisingly, Magnus is able to read his thoughts. “Look, you know I love to be judgemental with you at other peoples’ parties. But let’s keep it quiet and not offend our host, okay?” He winks at him. “And now – drinks! Don’t move, I’ll be back!”

 

~

 

If Alec had thought that this party couldn’t possibly get worse, he is soon proven wrong.

They had spent some time lingering at the edge of the dance floor, just watching the guests walking by, which was always fun with Magnus who gave the best biting commentary on people’s outfits and general life choices. Today, the latest trend in Seelie Court hairstyles had especially awakened his ire. The drinks were nothing special in Alec’s opinion, though this was probably due to Magnus grooming him from ‘just water’ to ‘the most expensive and expertly mixed stuff’. 

Now, however, Magnus is off dancing with some old vampire acquaintance (who’d even politely asked Alec for permission first) which leaves him standing around a bit awkwardly, tapping his foot and nodding his head like the non-dancer he is. Also, he’s doing his best to ignore the two fairy girls that keep giggling and looking over at him in a terribly obvious way. He’s just about to turn towards the bar to get rid of his empty glass when something light blue and frilly blocks his way. 

The warlock is already swaying a bit, and Alec’s nose is met with a rather unpleasant mixture of blood and alcohol. “Mr...Lightwood, was it?” Pierre’s voice goes up expectantly at the end of the question, and Alec sighs inwardly. “Just Alec is fine,” he replies in a voice that should make clear that it is, in fact, not fine. 

The other man ignores this in favour of beaming at him. It looks more genuine this time, though the reddish plastic fangs are still disturbing. “Delightful! I have to apologize if I seemed a bit…thrown by your presence earlier. I think no-one here expected Magnus Bane to actually bring you as his plus one – though of course word spreads fast. You two've been at the centre of Downworld gossip for weeks now, aha ha ha,” He trails of with a quiet “ha…” when Alec just keeps staring at him without reacting, and changes topic abruptly.

“Aaanyway…you as a guest at our festivities is a good thing, _non_? It can’t hurt to strengthen the ties between Lyon and New York, and the ties between Nephilim and warlocks?”

Alec hums in what he hopes is an affirmative way. He can at least agree to that, surprising as it may be that Pierre cares about Downworld politics. The warlock apparently sees it as permission to instantly switch back to more personal matters. His grating voice washes over Alec’s eardrums like a very annoying waterfall. It doesn’t help that Pierre attempts to be louder than the music, too. 

“So you and Magnus, huh? Delightful, simply delightful. I remember having the absolutely best breakfast of my life at his place – those pancakes, divine! And his fondness for cats – devilish little _bêtes_ , if you ask me, but still, so fitting! Oh, and does he still keep a box of mementos from long-lost lovers? Glamoured, of course, but so easy to find if you start snooping a bit? I can conclude from your face that he does! Ah well, he’s always been a bit strange. Really cute, though,” he adds, winks at Alec – a lot less cute than when Magnus had done it – before he just stops talking and vanishes into the crowd with a little wave. 

“…what,” Alec says, when his brain finally catches up. 

 

~

 

Naturally, Alec can’t help asking Magnus about it as soon as he’s back with more drinks, and neither can he help coming to the only possible conclusion when his lover’s replies slowly go from evasive to very evasive to simply annoyed. 

“Wait. So you two had a _thing_ going on?” 

Magnus scoffs, caught out. “It’s ancient history.”

“‘Ancient history’? I thought the guy isn’t even 250 years old.”

“Ooh, I’m sorry if two centuries isn’t long ago enough for you, Mr. I’ll-be-old-and-grey-at-70,” Magnus retorts testily and Alec has to admit, that stings a bit. He must look like it, too, because Magnus winces and his face softens instantly. Alec’s mortality is not a topic that tends to pop up in casual conversation, or even casual-approaching-argumentative conversation. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring that up. But when I said I enjoyed us being judgemental I didn’t exactly mean of each other’s past love lives-“

“Yeah, sure, I know that, I’m just having problems reconciling this guy with the mental image I have of past you, I mean, if he at least had a winning personality or something…” he trails off. How exactly did you tell your boyfriend that you had never expected him to date someone so far below his standards, without sounding like a total asshole?

Across the room, Pierre is trying to open a portal for some of his guests who are about to leave, but is apparently too drunk to get the hand motions right. His magic shatters a nearby mirror instead, the noise mostly tuned out by the music. Only a few people bother to even turn their heads. 

Alec shakes his head in disbelief. “How did he manage to become a High Warlock?”

Magnus shrugs. “It’s France,” he says, like that’s a satisfactory explanation. He looks at Alec sideways. “You know, darling, there are enough people who consider me quite as unqualified as he is.” 

“Well, they’re wrong.” Alec says with such honest conviction that it puts a pleased smile on Magnus’ face. It’s effective in dispelling any remaining tension between them. 

Alec clears his throat. “So...how did you two meet? You don’t have to tell me if it makes you uncomfortable, but I’m guessing that he didn’t just catch your eye somewhere…” 

He needs a second to identify the look this question puts on his lover’s face – it’s not one he’s seen very often. Magnus is embarrassed. 

“No, he didn’t. I was, ehm…high.” 

Alec’s eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline. “You were _high_?”

“Yes. I was testing a new potion – on myself, since I can’t just try them out on some hapless mundanes, now can I? Something that was supposed to improve one’s mood, lessen physical pains, things like that.” 

He starts speaking faster, hand waving around impatiently, as he tends to do when he wants to be done with a conversation as soon as possible. 

“I went through the usual routine, informed my friends and all regular clients of my absence, put up a sign at the door, strengthened the wards, and got ready to just stay at home for a few days. Then I took the potion. Two hours later I’m completely out of it, seeing butterflies in my bedroom, hearing birdsong, when this colourful fool stumbles in.” 

“But the wards-“ 

“Make an exception when another warlock is in dire need of help. This guy was barely 40 years old, practically panicking over every little misstep, in this case a botched transaction with a Seelie customer – completely normal, it takes a few decades to learn how to deal with them. But my wards let him in.”

“But – the sign…”

“Does he seem like someone who’d read a warning sign to you?” 

Alec doesn’t know what to reply to that. “So?”

“So, his emergency wasn’t that urgent after all, but he liked my place and he liked me, while I was irresistibly drawn to pastels and feeling lonely...in short, we spent the weekend inside my bedroom, and I probably spilt all my darkest secrets in-between our…physical activities.” 

Now it’s Alec’s turn to be keen on reaching the end of that particular story. “…what happened then?”

“I came back to my senses, of course. He didn’t show any signs of planning to leave on his own, I didn't want to part on bad terms, so I faked a fire message from Australia saying it was vital that I get there as fast as possible. Told him to leave at his own leisure, and portalled to Sydney. Which was still a rather drab prison colony at the time, mind you.” 

“You actually portalled to Sydney? Just to get away from him?”

“And stayed there for a week to make sure he was gone, yes. He was - and is - that annoying.”

He might still hide it under a barely maintained serious expression, but now Alec is clearly laughing at him. Magnus takes care to raise two appropriately scandalized eyebrows at him in response, but Alec just starts chuckling openly.

“You know, I never thought I’d say this, but maybe having no prior relationship experience isn’t that bad. At least I have no embarrassing stories for you to dig up, while you probably have, like, ten thousand or something.” 

“Glad I could make you feel better,” Magnus says with a hint of acid in his voice, but there’s a mischievous glint in his eyes that tells Alec not to worry. 

“What about that potion, though? Is there a market for something that makes you crave pastels and sex with random strangers?” 

Magnus grins at him. “You’d be surprised. It might take a few years but at some point, I find a match for every potion. Maybe I’ll tell you the story some day.” 

“I’d like that.” 

There’s a bit of a lull in their conversation after that. The thought enters Alec’s mind how peaceful the loft always is at this time of night, with soft lights, quiet music, only them and the Chairman together on their couch. Quite the opposite of what’s in front of him now. 

“You know, going home would be awesome right now.” 

“I agree,” Magnus tilts his head at him and steps closer, elbow digging lightly into Alec’s side, “we’ll need to say goodbye to our host first, though.”

“Hmm well...maybe I can wait a little longer.” Impulsively, Alec puts a playful peck on his lover’s cheek, and Magnus retorts by ruffling his hair and drawing him into a hug.

Alec is just about to close his eyes and enjoy resting his head on Magnus’ shoulder for a bit when Pierre walks by, grinning broadly, and gives him two thumbs up. 

“Stop frowning and ignore him, Alexander,” Magnus says softly. 

“You can’t possibly have seen that,” Alec mumbles back, but does as he’s been told anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea if there's a High Warlock of Lyon in canon, and I chose that city completely at random - just in case one of you happens to live there ;)


End file.
